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“The hell I’m not,” the older man argued. “She’s under arrest,” he repeated. “All of you are under arrest!”
“Rawlins—” Caleb began but Izzy cut him off.
“Go fuck yourself,” she snapped. “Jeter Paul is wanted by the Denver PD and the FBI. You can charge us, but you’ll never hold us. In fact, go ahead and haul us in. It’ll make it easier for the feds to find us… so they can hand us our medals.” Rawlins’ face darkened. “Oh, that’s right. When you book these assholes,” she said, pointing to the kids on the lawn, “the feds are going to come swooping in here, tearing up your station. So, Sergeant, just how much of a raging asshole do you want to appear to be when they arrive?”
Rawlins’ face went from pink to purple and he nearly shook with rage. If he hadn’t been such a raging asshole—as Izzy had put it—Caleb would’ve almost felt sorry for him. Here was the moment that the bastard likely laid awake fantasizing about for years. He finally had nearly all of them standing before him and Rawlins was dead certain they’d committed a crime, numerous crimes probably, maybe even several felonies. The sum total of Rawlins’ most desperate late-night wishes was stretched out before him but the furious, impotent man could do nothing about it.
Chapter 33
Caleb felt Izzy next to him before he opened his eyes. He slowly breathed in her scent and moved closer to her. He’d slept off and on all night, waking repeatedly to reassure himself that she was still there, still okay. He wondered how long it would be before he stopped needing to be reassured. Given how deeply the thought of losing her had affected him at the cabin, the sheer terror he’d felt when he’d heard the gunshot, he didn’t think he’d stop worrying any time soon. He listened to the sound of her breathing, grateful every second that she still was.
“Stop it,” he ordered quietly but firmly even though his eyes were still closed.
Izzy stirred beside him. “I’m not doing anything,” she insisted.
“I can hear you replaying it in your head,” he scolded. “Knock it off. You couldn’t have done anything differently, Iz. You didn’t know.”
Izzy sighed. “She’s just a kid, but still… I should’ve expected it. I should’ve been more careful.”
He frowned to himself. He understood the sentiment, but it really hadn’t been her fault. After hauling them all into the station, Caleb had gotten word that the girl had confessed to having a relationship with Jeter Paul. Knowing her parents would never approve, they’d kept it a secret for nearly a year. Apparently Romeo and Juliet’s grand plan was to rob the gas station where the girl worked. With their huge score, they’d live happily ever after in South Dakota while their cash earning interest while squirreled away in a mattress or something. Except Jeter wasn’t supposed to shoot the owner. That he’d done on the spur of the moment when the man showed up unexpectedly to retrieve that night’s deposit rather than in the morning as he usually did.
Izzy had been brooding about that turn of events all evening and into the night. Caleb knew she didn’t care that her reward had been halved now that the girl was no longer an official kidnap victim. Izzy was pissed that an innocent man died because of two selfish-asshole teenagers. Ever since she’d heard that the girl was in on the robbery and not some victim of Stockholm Syndrome, she had been furious.
“It should’ve been a theory,” she told him. “I dismissed her as a victim too quickly.”
Caleb took hold of her hand. He’d much rather hold her, but she was still in pain and he didn’t want to hurt her. “Stop beating yourself up,” he advised. “You did everything right. None of us considered it. You’re here. She’s behind bars. Now that man’s family knows the truth. That’s the next best thing to having him back.”
Izzy squeezed his hand and sighed again.
“I wish I could just lie here forever,” she said.
“Me, too.”
She tilted her head to look at him, surprised.
Caleb realized that it was time to have the conversation he’d been dreading. Twenty-four hours ago he would have done anything to avoid talking about it, even walk away from her for good, but now he knew he’d never be able to bring himself to leave.
“Losing you would’ve been losing everything,” he told her. “I avoided it my whole life, held myself back. I never wanted to feel this much for someone. It terrified me. It still does. I keep everyone away, even Shooter and the others. I couldn’t trust myself.”
“Caleb, all that’s in the past. You—”
“No,” he said, squeezing her hand to cut her off. “You have to know. You deserve to know what you’d be signing up for—if you want me.” He took a deep breath. This felt so much like jumping off a cliff. “I see prostitutes,” he confessed. “Just the one, now—Sioux Falls, but there were others when I was in the Army. Others in different countries.”
